


The Red Queen

by makingitwork



Series: Stalker Hotch [8]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: A cat - Freeform, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Possessive Hotch, danger prone Spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3736783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Spencer attracts danger.</p><p>And Hotch is a hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted expertly by AllHallowsEve, sorry Hotch isn't more BAMF :)
> 
> x

“Have you seen these?” Spencer asked, leaning over the top of the kitchen counter. He was dressed in a deep purple shirt, and an unbuttoned waistcoat, tight jeans accentuating his behind as he bent over.

Hotch was almost dressed for work, except his tie hung loosely around his collar. He smiled at the hot cup of coffee waiting for him, and took a sip. “Seen what?”

“These murders. Not too far from here,” his eyes were scanning the newspaper, drifting back to the photo of the crime scene and the outline of a body. “Men are being decapitated. Two in two weeks,” Hotch set down his mug and pressed his body behind Spencer’s, sucking a hickey deep into his neck. Spencer made a small sound in the back of his throat, but continued; “That’s a short recovery time. And look at the dump sites- literal dump sites, but the outline of the body shows elbows tucked in. She probably crossed their arms over their chests, which suggests remorse.” He turned his face a little, so his nose brushed Hotch’s “Don’t you think?”

“Is she abducting the men?” He asked, green eyes burning, stepping away to do up his tie and look for his shoes. Chesire jumped gracefully down from her favorite shelf to brush against Hotch’s ankle. Her wide orange eyes and sleek black ears twitched happily, and he stroked down her back. Before she skipped over to Spencer, climbing up him to settle in his arms against the warmth of his chest.

“I think so, it’d odd though because she’s not torturing them. She’s not doing _anything.”_

“Well don’t worry too hard, you’ll be perfectly alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, alright?”

“Love you,” Spencer murmured, pulling a map out of the kitchen drawer and plotting the dump sites. Hotch rolled his eyes fondly, pressing a kiss into Spencer’s temple, petting Cheshire, before heading out.

He came back many hours later, a little tired, but mostly happy, and he was met with the soothing smell of boiling potatoes and nearly done chicken. He slid off his jacket, the kitchen and hallway lights were off so he followed the gentle glow into the living room, where Spencer was sprawled out along the floor on his stomch, hurriedly writing notes and scanning through the laptop Aaron had bought him. Cheshire was asleep on Spencer’s back, curled up into a nearly perfect circle. “You’re working on that profile?”

“I think it’s a woman.” Spencer confessed.

And that was how the next few weeks went. More bodies, more newspapers, and if Spencer ever had the sneaking feeling that it was Aaron doing the killing, that was quickly dispelled when one of the murders took place while Aaron had his arms around his young lover as they watched a documentary about goldfish, much to the adoration and frustration of Cheshire. Till Spencer knew exactly who he was looking for.

An attractive woman, most likely a brunette, highly intelligent, upper class, who preferred young men, reminiscent to the type her mother would bring round the house. Early exposure to prostitues and a lack of boundaries.

“Be careful.” Hotch murmured, stealing Spencer’s toast to take a quick bite “Walk home quickly. Don’t talk to anyone.”

“It’s a library,” Spencer grinned cheekily, stealing the toast back and smearing on more butter “Nothing’s going to happen to me in a library.”

And nothing did. For the first fifteen minutes. He sat at the library information desk, and helped the only person to come in. A young boy looking for something on Russia 1912-1928, to which Spencer gladly directed him. The library was large and looming, and quiet, and Spencer checked the logging on the computer, before taking out his own book, and reading quietly.

 _Click. Click. Click._ The clicking of heels. It made Spencer pang for a moment, as he remembered Emily, and Garcia, and JJ and Elle. He looked up, to see a tall brunette woman, with long wavy brown hair in an expensive silk dress. She nodded at him, coming up to the front desk.

“Do you have any books on how to set up a business?” she asked, an Italian accent. Spencer looked at her. He looked at her and he _knew._ He couldn’t see her eyes through her large black sunglasses, but in that moment, her head cocked slightly to the right, and he knew, that she knew, that he knew. He swallowed hard and turned back to the computer screen, tapping in a four digit number code and nodded

“Yes, it was returned a few days ago. In the How to Section upstairs.”

She removed her sunglasses, revealing glittery brown eyes, and her lipstick smudged lips smiled warmly “Would you show me the way?”

Spencer wondered where Martia was. Probably on the top floor, safe. That was the second best place for her to be. Best would have been down here, ready to bolt for the door or phone the police. “I’d be happy too,” he nodded, turning his back to her, trying to be appear calm and confident, but as soon as he went for the stairs, something heavy was hitting the back of his neck, and he crumpled before he could even make a groan of discomfort.

…

…

…

“They’re calling her the Red Queen,” Sharon offered, as Hotch packed up his belonging for the day. He arched a polite eyebrow “That woman who’s been killing everyone.” She elaborated

“That’s a woman?”

“Police just figured it out today. Apparently she doesn’t have the strength to move them very far. Hence the dumpsites.”

Aaron bit back a smile, sliding on his coat. Spencer had figured out it was a woman weeks ago. “Let’s hope she’s caught soon,” he offered “Drive home safe, Sharon.” She nodded at him, a small blush staining her cheeks, though she scolded herself for having such inappropriate thoughts.

Aaron knew something was wrong before he even stepped into the house. Cheshire had an inquisitive look on face, as he perched on the wall outside. Aaron lifted him up and walked into the house. Silence. No lights. No smell of cooking, no Spencer sprawled out on the floor, reading in the library and even asleep.

Hotch was towards the library before Cheshire could meow, but the library was closed. He was left with an overwhelming sense of pain and confusion, as he tried to clear his head. He thought for a moment. Spencer must have been taken from the library, so…he turned his head both right and left, the woman couldn’t go far- left was the shorter route to seclusion. He patted his pocket, checking for his gun, and sped down the left road. The roads got narrower and narrower, and he sifted through hazy memories, trying to remember exactly what Spencer had said about the woman.

A large, beautiful and rather seculded house. With patches of grass and flowers matted down. As thoguh the had been clumsily trodden on. He took his gun out, and edged to the door. Frowning, he realised it was open. She couldn’t be that stupid surely, he thought to himself, pushing the door open. It didn’t creak, as expensive doors often don’t, and stepped inside. He strained his ears a moment, listening. And perhaps the scuffing of a chair downstairs.

He found the door easily enough, and was greeted to the advantageous view of the back of the unsub, with Spencer strapped to a chair, a line drawn in marker pen around his neck in a near perfect circle. He lunged.

She wriggled underneath him, her knife digging painfully into his side as he delivered a sharp punch to her face, pulling out his gun, and pressing it to her temple. She spat up at him. “Take him. He’s not worth the effort.”

“He is _everything.”_ Hotch hissed, venom alight in his eyes “He is my _everything,_ and he is worth the world and more, do you understand? You are nothing. You mean nothing, and if you dropped off the face of the earth tomorrow, no one would care.” He pulled himself off her, staggering slightly, clutching his side, as blood stained his fingers. She watched him, panting with wide eyes

“Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Hotch breathed in deeply through his nose, raising the gun to her head and whispered; “Turn to the side.”

And she did.

…

…

…

Spencer woke up sore, and groggy, and lying in bed.

Hotch steps into the room, smiling tentaviely “You feeling better?”

“How did I…” he frowns, groaning, taking the water he is offered gratefully. He shot Hotch a rufeful look “I’m sorry you have to come and keep saving me. I swear I’ll do the same to you. Not that you’ll ever need it.”

“You attract trouble,” Aaron stated, as though it were fact “She killed herself. Right in front of me, Spencer,”

He nodded “Suicide was part of the profile.” He touched Hotch’s arm gently “Are you alright?” He didn't see the tightly wound bandage under Hotch's shirt, and Hotch wasn't sure how he'd avoid sex for a days. He'd focus on Spencer, so nothing too unusual, hopefully rimming him till his boy was too delirious to think straight. Perhaps a tablet or two in his water, just in case he forgot.

“It was your profile that led me to you,” He nosed Spencer’s hair happily “You saved me.”

Spencer laughed “Saved you from what?”

“A life without you.”

And honestly, Hotch could not think of anything worse.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it wasn't longer. Sorry there were typos. Sorry it's been a while. 
> 
> I'm hearing strange noises from my printer.
> 
> If any of my readers would like to send me LEGO, that is always appreciated. The price for them is steep right? Steep. 
> 
> x


End file.
